Lethal Sins
by Charmian
Summary: One Night. Seven Different Boys. Seven Different Sins.
1. All Hail Ceasar

Disclaimer: I did not write the song used in this story... AC/DC did. Secondly, I don't own Jack Kelley or Sarah. Please R&R!  
  
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An account of the effects of Pride June 17, 1899. 5:07 p.m.  
  
"Down at the epicenter  
  
Things started heatin' up  
  
Rockin' on the richter scale  
  
Swinging in the chariot  
  
Around and around we go  
  
The senators rehearse the tale  
  
Starring in the coliseum  
  
Tied upon the rack  
  
Up comes the thumb of Caesar  
  
To stab you in the back  
  
All hail Caesar, Hail, Hail!  
  
All hail Caesar, Hail, Hail! You need eyes in the back of your head boy,  
  
or you're dead"  
  
Jack Kelley paced the washroom at the Lodging House so much he was wearing a hole in the floor. He was unrecognizable in the condition he was in. Hot tears streaked his face; his clothes were disheveled. He thoughts were a tumult of despair.  
  
--- How could Sarah think I'm unattractive? Why would she tell me I'm boastful about my manhood! So I exaggerated. Everyone does! If she ever told anyone I would be the laughing stalk! And she truly thinks I'm irritating, dirty and have bad hair! My hair is perfect; I'm pleasant, and very clean! And then she dumped me after humiliating me. She's got some nerve. She thinks everyone hates me? Well she'd be damned to know that everyone hates her. That would stop her from being so damn proud all the time. But that won't happen; because she's going to tell everyone about me. All the truths she knows about me. Bloody hell! I've got to end this right now, once and for all! ---  
  
Jack grabbed a knife the boys used to shave and gently ran it across his palm. He watched the blood pool in his hand.  
  
--- Do I really want to do this? ---  
  
Jack looked from his knife to his wrist and back again. He placed the knife against his wrist and-  
  
Pleaseeee plllllllleeaseee Review! 


	2. Have a Drink on Me

Disclaimer: I did not write the song used in this story... AC/DC did. Secondly, I don't own David or Sarah Jacobs. Please R&R!  
  
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An account of the effects of Envy June 17, 1899. 6:13 p.m.  
  
"So don't worry about tomorrow  
  
Take it today  
  
Forget about the check  
  
We'll get hell to pay  
  
Have a drink on me"  
  
David sat by the large window in his family's apartment watching the light shower splash against the panes. He let out a long sigh before getting up to get a glass of water. He was in a bad mood today.  
  
--- I know it's wrong and sinful. I would most likely be disowned if anyone found out. Maybe my longings wouldn't be so bad if Sarah wasn't seeing him. I hate her so much for it sometimes. I just wish she'd go away. Then I would have Jack all to myself. If only it were possible to make her go away. ---  
  
Dave's face lit up as if he had an idea. His mouth twisted into a wicked smile.  
  
--- But it is possible. So very possible. Tonight would be an excellent night for a little trip to Irving Hall – just my sister and me. Of course I'll buy her a drink and when she's not looking, add a little arsenic. No, perhaps that would be too difficult. Perhaps I will just bake my dear sister an apple pie- with a little of that arsenic for flavor! ---  
  
hahahhaahahahahhahhahahahahaha 


	3. Too Much Food

Disclaimer: I did not write the song used in this story... Jason Mraz did. Secondly, I don't own Pie Eater Please R&R! P.S. In case if you haven't figured it out yet... my little arrows tell you when the person is thinking...  
  
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An account of the effects of Gluttony June 17, 1899. 7:03 p.m.  
  
"Well if you are what you eat  
  
in my case I'll be sweet  
  
so come and get some  
  
I'm so over it." (j. mraz)  
  
Pie Eater headed out of the Lodging House at his usual snack hour. It was a nightly ritual for him. Every night he would to down to a bakery down the street. He knew how to pick the lock. Once inside he would head to the back room. There the pies were stored in a tiny pantry. The room could probably hold up to fifty pies. But the baker only baked ten for the next morning, just to keep the early morning customers happy while she baked up more. Pie Eater normally ate all ten with ease. However when he arrived that night there were eleven. Pie Eater thought it was strange.  
  
--- Perhaps the new baker made an extra tonight, maybe for herself. Or for her queer son. Odd that boy doesn't have a girlfriend, or even want one! Oh well. ---  
  
Pie Eater ate the ten blueberry pies, as usual. He was surprised, though, when he took a bite of the eleventh.  
  
--- Hmm... this one's apple. How odd. Ahh well. Mustn't let the flavor hinder my appetite. ---  
  
Pie Eater left the little bakery when he was done. As he left the shop he had a strange sensation go through his body. Pie Eater shrugged it off and continued home. Suddenly Pie Eater stopped in his tracks and slumped over into an alley two blocks north of the Lodging House. 


	4. Sin City

Disclaimer: I did not write the song used in this story... AC/DC did. Secondly, I don't own Racetrack or the Mysterious stranger. Please R&R!  
  
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An account of the effects of Greed June 17, 1899. 8:37 p.m.  
  
"Fingers Freddy, Diamond Jim  
  
They're getting ready, look out I'm coming in  
  
So spin that wheel, cut that pack  
  
And roll those loaded dice  
  
Bring on the dancing girls  
  
And put the Champaign on ice"  
  
Racetrack Higgins put on his very best poker face. He's at Dirty Nelly's Pub, just two blocks south of the Lodging House. Racetrack was betting everything he had on that one hand.  
  
-- Bu God I wish I didn't have such bad luck tonight! What the hell are the two of hearts, six of clubs, nine of spades, seven of diamonds, and a Queen of clubs going to get me! Nothing that's what. Christ. ---  
  
Racetrack looked carefully at his opponent. The man had a long jacket on with the collar turned up. A bowler hat sat pompously on his head. Racetrack couldn't even see his face to determine who this great poker player was. Both players threw down their cards. The mysterious stranger had a full house. Racetrack had nothing. Racetrack coolly slipped his hand into his pants pocket as if to pay up. The stranger put his hand out, palm up, waiting for his payment. Racetrack whipped out a tiny gamblers pistol and shot the man across from him. He quickly put his gun away and ran as the man fell to the floor. His hat cocked to one side just enough to expose a golden curl.  
  
Okay if you're not getting who the mysterious stranger is... let me know when you review and I'll tell you. 


	5. Young Lust

Disclaimer: I did not write the song used in this story... Aerosmith did. Secondly, I don't own Mush or the Spot. I do own Rosalyn. Please R&R!  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------- An account of the effects of Lust June 17, 1899. 9:43 p.m.  
  
"Checkin' out the ladies Who didn't bring their boyfriends Who love to get in trouble I got to say I'll see you later Never keep a secret Never feelin' guilty Oh never gettin' lonely Never gettin' no peace Hidin' from the police"  
(aerosmith)  
  
Mush sat at the edge of a bed in the Brooklyn Lodging House. He looked at the woman next to him. Both were breathing heavily. The girl reached for her clothes, pulling them slowly over her porcelain skin. She had wispy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She bit her lip cautiously as she glanced at Mush.  
  
--- She's so beautiful. I know I've seen her somewhere. Obviously she's from Brooklyn. Where the hell have I seen her before? Jesus Mush why are you so dense! Come on ... who is she? ---   
  
As Mush pulled on his pants Spot burst in the door. "Rosalyn! Mush! How could you?" Rosalyn panicked.  
  
--- Right. Spot's girlfriend. Good move Mush. ---  
  
Before Mush could respond, Rosalyn 'confessed'.  
  
"Spot he made me! I had no choice. I'm so sorry Spot! But he threatened me!"  
  
--- Stupid, stupid, stupid! It was good sex though. Probably would have done her even if I had remembered who she was. ---  
  
Spot was infuriated. He sent Rosalyn downstairs to calm down. Mush was in for it now. 


	6. Sleep All Day

Disclaimer: I did not write the song used in this story... Jason Mraz did. Secondly, I don't own Skittery or the Racetrack or Pie Eater. Please R&R!  
  
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An account of the effects of Sloth June 17, 1899. 10: 22 p.m.  
  
"His after moan though cries oh no  
  
He's building up a shine but he take it slow  
  
And he knows it time to make a change here And time to get away  
  
And he knows it's time for all the wrong reasons And time to end the pain  
  
But he sleep all, sleep all day, sleep all, we sleep all day over again  
  
Why don't we?"  
  
Skittery looked around the Lodging House. It was still a mess. Curfew was in half an hour. The boys would be returning soon. He'd get hell for not cleaning up.  
  
--- Ah well. Jack didn't get mad when he came home five hours ago. I wonder what he's doing up there. Maybe Sarah came over while I was sleeping. ---  
  
Just as Skittery started to roll over on the couch Racetrack came in the door. He had a horrified look on when he realized Skittery hadn't cleaned Skittery shrugged at him. Racetrack shook his head and ran upstairs.  
  
--- Obviously he didn't care that much either. Might as well take another nap 'til the boys get home ---  
  
As Skittery was just falling asleep he heard a thud at the base of the stairwell. He slowly looked over to see Racetrack face down on the floor. He had a knife the boys used to shave in his foot.  
  
--- What am I going to do? I should go get Pie Eater. He'll know what to do. Maybe he'll even help me clean the Lodging House before everyone yells at me. ---  
  
Skittery sauntered out the door, head down. He didn't even notice a carriage as it whipped down the street until it collided with his body. He fell face down into a puddle. 


	7. Hells Bells

Disclaimer: I did not write the song used in this story... AC/DC did. Secondly, I don't own Spot Conlon or Mush Meyers or Jack Kelley. Please R&R!  
  
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An account of the effects of Wrath June 17, 1899. 11:18  
  
"I'm a rolling thunder, a pouring rain  
  
I'm comin' on like a hurricane  
  
My lightning's flashing across the sky  
  
You're only young but you're gonna die  
  
I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives  
  
Nobody's putting up a fight  
  
I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell  
  
I'm gonna get you, Satan get you"  
(ac/dc)  
  
Spot paced back and forth in front of Mush Meyers. Mush was bound and gagged awaiting Spots decision.  
  
--- How could Mush do this to me? He knew it was my girlfriend. Why would he rape her? Did he think I wouldn't find out? My God! Look at his dumb face. How could he be so stupid? ---  
  
"Ut I une-ent?" Mush asked through his gag. Spot cocked an eyebrow.  
  
--- What the hell does 'ut I une-ent' mean? ---  
  
"Shut up!" Spot yelled. Spot pondered for one more minute what he should do.  
  
--- Maybe I shouldn't be this cruel. ---  
  
Spot looked at Mush's face and made his final decision  
  
--- It has to be this way. Jack won't be happy. But to hell with jack! I must make an example of Mush. Everyone must be reminded not to mess with me! ---  
  
Spot didn't notice that Mush had broken free. Mush knocked Spot to the floor and the two boys rolled around until Spot had Mush beneath him.  
  
"Bye – bye Mush!" Spot flipped a switchblade from his back pocket and held it to Mush's throat. Spot liked the control, the power he had at that very moment. An evil grin flashed across his face, a glint in his eye proved there would no mercy tonight.  
  
--- All it will take is one flick of my wrist. --- 


	8. Hangman Jury

Disclaimer: I did not write the song used in this story... Aerosmith did. Secondly, I don't own any of the Newsies. Please R&R!  
  
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An account of Consequences June 20, 1899 12:27 a.m.  
  
"I swear I didn't know that 45 was loaded  
  
In fact my memory ain't so clear  
  
That's not to say he didn't get what he deserved  
  
Least that's the way it looks from here  
  
Boy when you line the track a lack a  
  
Hey boy dontcha line the track"  
  
Kid Blink looked at the four other boys across the table form him. All had a sullen look. Snoddy, Crutchy, Dutchy, and Bumlets did not look happy to be deciding the fate of Spot Conlon. It was customary in Manhattan to punish those who harmed one of their boys. But the boys had gone through so much misery in the past two days.  
  
"Under the circumstances, I say we ask him once more and if he won't talk we give him punishment number three." Bumlets spoke up. The rest nodded in agreement.  
  
"Okay." Kid Blink agreed. He left the room with a heavy heart. He trudged over to where Spot was being held by Jake and Itey.  
  
"Spot tell me please. Where's Mush Meyers?" Kid sighed. Spot looked the other way. The four other boys stood behind Kid. Crutchy put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Spot Conlon, leader of the Booklynites, I punish you with a number three sentence. You may say any last words that you may have." Kid looked down.  
  
"Just know that I know what happened to Jack, Race, Dave, Pie Eater, Skittery, and especially Mush. Try and cover it up. And you will. But just know that I know the truth. I will always know the truth." Kid sighed. Specs came into the room.  
  
"Number three Specs. Take him out back. You know the drill." Specs nodded and took Spot out back. Kid sank down into a chair.  
  
--- How did all this happen? Where did we go wrong? ---  
  
Kid jumped as he heard Spot yell into the night "Manhattan! Racetrack Higgins, Mush Meyers, Jack Kelley, John 'Pie Eater' O' Connell, David Jacobs, and Thomas 'Skittery' Whitham are all in the basement of h-"Two quick gunshots drowned out Spots words. Kid leaned back.  
  
"What has happened has happened. Let's not dwell on it. Jack will be upset when he learns how sullen we've been these past few days." Kid went to correct himself but thought better of it.  
  
--- What's done is done. --- 


End file.
